Wizards Vs Christmas
by Save vs. Magic
Summary: Justin and Alex magically transport themselves back to Christmas Eve, 1945, to finally put right a wrong that's been nagging at Justin his entire life. But does Alex have an ulterior motive for tagging along? Fluffy, budding Jalex. One-shot.


**DISCLAIMER, THE FIRST: ** _Wizards of Waverly Place_ and its characters still aren't owned by me, no matter how many letters I've written to Santa about it. Bah, humbug!

**AUTHORS NOTE:** A prequel of sorts to _In Space, No One Can Hear You Scream_ by jlxology. It's not necessary to have read his story to get into mine, but I do highly recommend it, especially if you're a fan of both WoWP and Battlestar Galactica. It's good, cracky fun. The spell that's central to the plot here is entirely his invention, and used with his kind permission. Cross-posted from the justin_alex community on LiveJournal, which you really should at least be lurking in if you're a Jalex shipper. There's loads of awesome fic there that never makes its way over here.

* * *

And suddenly, with a bright flash of light and a light tinkling noise, they appeared at the mouth of an alley, as if from thin air. Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice, despite how packed Main Street appeared to be with last-minute shoppers. Clad only in the pajamas and pair of fuzzy slippers that she'd been wearing when they'd started the movie, Alex immediately began to shiver against the chill in the night air, and wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm. Standing next to her on the snow-covered sidewalk in a Captain Jim-Bob Sherwood t-shirt and a pair of ratty old track pants, Justin frowned at her as he lowered his wand.

"Whoops, sorry," he said sheepishly. "Guess that spell you found doesn't do clothes, too."

"No duh," Alex snarked at him between chattering teeth. She reached out and snatched his wand out of his hand. "Here, I'll fix it."

Even as Justin opened his mouth to protest, Alex twirled his wand in the air, causing the tip of it to flare brightly. Twin bursts of light enveloped each of them, and for a split second Justin felt as though he were standing there completely naked. But just as panic began to take hold, the light subsided, leaving them both dressed in the very chic-est of modern ski-wear.

"Ooo, cute!" Alex grinned as she caught a glimpse of herself in her snow bunny ensemble, in the reflection of a store window. "Not bad, huh egghead? Maybe Harper's right about me going into fashion design, after all."

"Give me that!" Justin snarled, snatching his wand back from her and pushing his ski goggles up onto his forehead. "We're supposed to be trying to blend in, remember? We can't go out there dressed like this! We'll attract too much attention!"

"I will, maybe,"' Alex said. She began to twirl from side to side, admiring her reflection from all angles, oblivious to the strange and bewildered looks she was receiving from shoppers as they passed. "Because once they get a load of all _this_, they're not even gonna _bother_ with you..."

"Alex, it's 1945," Justin said, in his overly patient, 'my-sister-is-an-idiot' voice. "I'm pretty sure they haven't invented Goretex snowboarding jackets yet. Besides, in case you haven't noticed, we're the only ones in color, and people are starting to stare."

"Tsk," Alex grimaced, without taking her eyes off herself. "Lousy racists."

"Nonono, that's not what I—" Justin broke off with a grunt, as he realized his sister wasn't really paying attention, anyway. Shaking his head in frustration, he raised his wand one more time and waved it in the air. Once again they were both enveloped in twin bursts of light, which left them clad in period-appropriate clothing when it faded.

"There," Justin grinned, buttoning his wool peacoat over his suit, and setting his fedora at a jaunty angle on his head. "That's more like it."

"Ugh, great. I'm dressed like Grandma," Alex groused, grimacing at her reflection. "Drab, shapeless overcoat, itchy angora sweater, a calf-length wool skirt and nylons. And don't even get me started about how binding my underwear is. Now I get why they called it the Great Depression."

"Uh, except this is the forties, and the Depression was in the thirties," Justin corrected her as he tucked his wand into the inside breast pocket of his overcoat. "That was earlier, remember? The run on the bank?"

"Nobody cares but you, dorkus,"' Alex said flatly, clearly not interested. "Let's just get this over with. _Vamanos_, already."

"Fine," Justin snapped, and craned his neck to look through the bustling crowd, first up the street, then down. "C'mon, I think it's this way."

He wrapped his gloved hand around her wrist and tugged her out of the alley, bobbing and weaving his way through the hordes of holiday shoppers like a man on a mission. She looked down at herself and scowled as he pulled her along the sidewalk behind him.

"Gah, I always hate the way I look in black and white," Alex whined. "It totally washes out my complexion. They colorize old movies like this for a reason, y'know."

"Blasphemy!" Justin said over his shoulder, navigating his way around a man so laden down with wrapped Christmas packages that he could barely see over them. "Colorizing classic films is a crime against cinema, and ought to be outlawed. It's even worse than making Greedo shoot first."

Alex rolled her eyes at this, the way he could turn anything into a _Star Wars_ reference. "Listen, this isn't gonna take long, is it? I still have wrapping to do."

"What, are you kidding? It's ten to midnight on Christmas Eve, Alex!" said Justin, who'd had all his own wrapping done since the day after Thanksgiving. "Besides, don't you usually just get Harper to wrap everything for you?"

"Well, yeah...but I can't very well get her to wrap her own present, now can I?" Alex pointed out, then narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Hmm, or could I? All it would take would be a little short-term memory wipe..."

"Don't even think about it, Alex," Justin snapped. "I really don't want to spend Christmas morning figuring out how to reverse magically-induced amnesia after you inevitably mess up the spell, thanks."

"It's not inevitable," Alex pouted. "I get spells right sometimes. On the second or third try, anyway."

"Uh-huh," Justin snorted, tugging her along behind him. Together, they skidded to a halt on the icy sidewalk at the corner. Across the street, a Salvation Army Santa rang his bell and wished passerby a Merry Christmas as they dropped coins into the kettle beside him. Bing Crosby's rendition of _Silent Night_ played faintly over a tinny speaker, somewhere up the street, just within earshot.

"Here, this looks familiar," Justin said. "We'll wait for him here. He ought to be along any minute now."

"He'd better be," Alex said, hunching her shoulders and shivering beneath her coat as the wind picked up again. "I don't wanna waste all night on this."

"I really don't get what you're complaining about. This was _your_ idea, y'know," Justin reminded her.

"Only because I'm fed up of listening to you complain every year," Alex snapped. "Seventeen years I've been putting up with your endless whining about miscarried justice and evil going unpunished, blah blah freakin' blah, every Christmas Eve for as long as I can remember. Well, no more! We're fixing this once and for all, so you'll finally shut the hell up about it and let me eat pizza and drink my eggnog in peace!"

"I do not whine," Justin said, in that breathlessly scandalized voice he had.

"_Ohplease!_" Alex scoffed. "Whenever you talk about it, your voice goes so high by the time your'e done that dogs start to whine two blocks over!"

"Well, excuse me for being morally outraged by the message it sends!" Justin complained. "The bad guy isn't supposed to get away with it! Especially on Christmas Eve! Tonight of _all_ nights, good is supposed to triumph over evil, right is supposed to win out over wrong, and justice is supposed to—"

He broke off suddenly as, somewhere in the distance, a dog began barking, the sound carried on the wind and echoing off the surrounding buildings. Alex said nothing, but raised her eyebrows and grinned at him smugly.

"That was a coincidence,"' Justin sneered.

"Sure it was, egghead," Alex said. "Hey, can I have my hand back, already? My fingers are starting to go numb."

Justin blinked at her, then looked down and gave a start as he realized that his black-gloved hand was still wrapped tightly around her tiny grey-mittened one. He dropped it immediately, as though it carried the plague, and hoped she'd attribute the sudden dark flush in his cheeks to wind burn.

"Thanks,"' Alex said flatly, cupping her hands over her mouth to blow on them before she shoved them into her pockets. She rather pointedly avoided his gaze, staring at the toes of her boots as though they were suddenly the most interesting thing on Earth.

Together they lapsed into a comfortable silence as they waited, stomping their feet against the sidewalk to keep their blood moving, unconsciously leaning into each other to pool their body heat against the bitterly cold wind. Alex found herself watching the Salvation Army Santa on the corner across the street, cheerfully ringing his bell despite the biting chill. She wondered if maybe he had a little _something-something_ stashed in his kettle, to help fight the nip in the air. And if so, if he'd mind sharing. Because her buzz from the generous splash of Irish Cream that she'd slipped into her eggnog (when Justin had been preoccupied with paying the pizza delivery guy) was beginning to wear off. And, sweet baby Jesus, if he expected her to wait out here in the pre-Technicolor cold like this and freeze her black-and-white ass off completely sober...

She broke off mid-thought as a group of three or four guys came hustling through the crowd of shoppers up the sidewalk, making a beeline for the Santa Claus. Frowning, Alex started to grab at Justin's arm, fearing the jolly old guy was about to be mugged in plain sight. But before she could get his attention, Santa caught sight of the men running towards him, grinned and called out to them as he waved. They clustered around him as Alex watched, talking hurriedly, their expressions dire. And as he listened, the look on Santa's face became more and more somber as well, until finally he nodded firmly, then turned and lifted his kettle full of money off its stand.

A ragged cheer went up from the guys surrounding him, as they shook his hand and pounded him on the back in appreciation. Then, taking him by the elbow, they pointed down Main Street and hurried on their way, tugging him along. Abandoning his post, Santa continued to shake his bell and shout Merry Christmas as he followed along in their wake, helping to spread the word, shouting thanks to those who those who dropped coins into the kettle as he ran past. Grinning, Alex watched after him long after the crowds of shoppers had swallowed them up, until she could no longer make out the distant ringing of his bell. She had a pretty good idea of where that money was going to wind up.

"Wow, look at them go," Justin said softly next to her. She looked up at him and realized he'd been watching the whole thing too, a goofy smile plastered across his face. "They weren't kidding. They really did run all over town for him. It's really something, huh?"

"I guess so, sure," Alex sighed, "but there goes our chance to score some rum off ol' Santa, there."

Justin looked down at her, puzzled. "Wha—? Rum?"

"Rum, gin, scotch, whatever it was he had stashed in that thing. I'm not picky." Then, off Justin's horrified look: "What? It's cold! A girl's gotta do something to keep warm!"

"Alex! You're underage!"

"Dude, it's 1945. That makes me, like, _negative-fifty years old_. I'm pretty sure age of majority laws don't exactly apply to me, here."

"He's a Salvation Army Santa, Alex, not a bootlegger," Justin said stiffly, his voice going all breathy and scandalized again. "They're typically not in the habit of smuggling moonshine in their kettles."

Alex snorted and rolled her eyes theatrically. "OK, first of all: _bootlegger? Moonshine?_ Really? Dude, we're just visiting the forties, you don't need to talk like we're moving in."

"I am _trying_ to blend in," Justin snapped.

"Well, knock it off, you're embarrassing me. Secondly, could you _be_ any more naive? Have you never stood downwind of the dude shilling for the Sally Ann on the corner by the Sub Station? Because let me tell you, egghead, that is one Santa whose cheeks are all rosy for a reason. There are breweries in Milwaukee that don't smell that jolly, if you follow me."

"Wearing that uniform is both an honor and a privilege. Anyone who abuses that sacred trust in such a fashion ought to be horsewhipped."

"_'Horsewhipped?'_ Ugh. Seriously, Justin, name one other person under eighty who talks like that..."

"Mister Laritate says you ought to be horsewhipped all the time," Justin sneered, "and he can't be a day over sixty."

"Shyeah," Alex scoffed, taking her mittened hands out her pocket to give him a sardonic double thumbs-up. "Awesome role model there, Sparky."

Justin rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort, then stopped short as a snowflake landed on his nose, then another. He blinked and looked up at the night sky to see it filled with them, the argument with his sister forgotten.

"Hey, it's started to snow again. He oughta be along any minute now."

"Thank God, I think my toes are about to fall off. These ugly boots you put me in are for crap. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

For a moment, Justin quietly watched the snow fall, as Alex made a show of stomping her feet and hunching her shoulders against the cold, to demonstrate how miserable she was. The wind picked up suddenly, tugging at the ends of his scarf and threatening to knock his fedora off his head. Alex ducked in front of him to shield herself from it, her teeth chattering. It only took a moment's hesitation for Justin to bring his hands up to her arms, and begin gently rubbing the warmth back into them. Alex didn't complain.

Complete strangers—other couples, especially, both young and old—smiled fondly at them as they passed on the sidewalk. The men in particular, after getting a good look at Alex, would then look Justin in the eye and either wink or tip their own hats at him in a silent salute, or perhaps congratulations. Because even in black and white, dressed like their grandmother, and shivering miserably in the cold, it was perfectly plain to see that Alex—with snowflakes melting on her long eyelashes, over her impossibly dark eyes, button nose, and fully, pouty lips—was a catch. And they believed him to be the guy lucky enough to have caught her.

And though the idea shot Justin through with warmth, and an odd sort of pride, at the same time he couldn't help but snort at the irony of it. Christmas Eve or not, if any of these nice, friendly people suspected the truth about them—about _him_—they'd probably run him and Alex both out of town on a rail, torches and pitchforks in hand. And not just because they were wizards from the future, either.

"What are you snorting about back there, egghead?" Alex asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"Nothing," Justin muttered. "Just thinking."

"About?"

Justin shrugged. "Right and wrong. How quick we are to persecute basically good people for the most ridiculous crap...like, say, having the audacity to love somebody society says they shouldn't..but let some truly heinous people operate out in the open without any fear of reprisal."

"Jesus Christ, you're like a dog with a bone, you know that?" Alex said, exasperated. "This is exactly why we're doing this: so I never have to listen to another one of your goddamned three-day-long speeches about truth, justice and the American Way!"

"Wrong Jimmy Stewart movie. That's _Mister Smith Goes To Washington_."

"What?"

"Never mind," Justin smiled. "Seriously, Alex, how does it not bother you that the old man gets away with it? I mean, not just that he isn't caught or charged or anything, but that he's spared any sort of comeuppance or karmic retribution at all, period!"

"Bother me? Pfft, have we met?" Alex snorted. "If anything, it gives me hope!"

Justin blinked at her. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"Whatever that means, egghead, it seems to annoy you an awful lot. So I'll accept it as a compliment," Alex replied sweetly.

"You would," Justin sighed, shaking his head. "How you never once found a lump of coal in your stocking on Christmas morning while we were growing up, I wont ever under—"

_"HEY! HELLO, BEDFORD FALLS!"_

Justin broke off in mid-sentence as he and Alex—along with every other soul crowding the sidewalk—looked up the street, to where George Bailey had just come to a skidding stop right in the middle of the snow-covered road. Grinning from ear to ear, he threw his arms wide, as if he wanted to embrace the whole street, the whole town, and the whole world.

_"Merry Christmas!"_ he shouted, his jubilant voice carried on the wind as he began to run towards them through the driving snow, as fast as his legs would carry him. He waved to random townsfolk on the sidewalk as he passed, several of whom waved and called back.

"Here he comes!" Justin said, with a grin to match George's, as excited as a kid on...well, tonight.

"Finally!" Alex growled. "It's about goddamned time."

_"Merry Christmas, movie house!"_ George shouted at the top of his lungs, waving happily at the Bijou Theater as he ran past it. Then, turning his head to the other side of the street, he beamed and waved at the gigantic storefront right behind Justin and Alex. _"Merry Christmas, Emporium!"_

"Oh wow, Alex, he looked right at us!" Justin breathed as George sprinted past, his voice choked with emotion. "George Bailey actually waved at us! This has always been one of my favorite parts of the movie, and to actually get to see it happen live like this is just so...so...gosh, I think I've got something in my eye!"

"Yeah, it's called your finger, you big crybaby," Alex snarked, swatting at his arm as she squinted through the falling snow after George. "Would you pay attention? We've gotta find out which one is the right building, or were gonna have to rewind this scene and sit through it all over again!"

"Oh, I could watch it a thousand times without getting bored," Justin sighed.

"Well, I sure as hell _can't_ without losing something to frostbite," Alex said. "So c'mon, already!"

And then Justin said "Urk!" as Alex grabbed hold of his hand and yanked him forward as she stepped off the curb and began hurrying up the street in pursuit of George Bailey. Thankfully, he'd slowed down a little at the corner, giving them a chance to catch up.

_"Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan!_" he called out, waving fondly at the Christmas wreath waving in the breeze beneath a sign that read _Bailey Bros. Building and Loan Association_. Then, facing forward, George quickened his pace as he sprinted across the street. Alex cursed under her breath, afraid they were about to lose him. But then she blinked in surprise as he hopped up the curb, ran right up a snow drift to the side of the Bedford Falls Trust and Savings Bank without hesitation, and began to pound the only window that was still lit.

_"Hey!"_ he shouted through the glass, merrily waving both arms. "_Merry Christmas, Mister Potter!"_

"There!" Justin exclaimed triumphantly, pointing frantically over Alex's shoulder, as they watched George give a final wave to the window, then turn and continue running on down the street. "On the corner! The Bank! His office is in the Bank!"

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock, thanks," Alex said, rolling her eyes as she tugged Justin along behind her. Together, they hurried across the street in George's tracks, right up the snow drift to the side of the bank, and pressed their backs to the wall to the left of the window. And though they could still hear George's voice echoing in the distance as he called his wife's name, all the joy and excitement of the previous few moments had completely drained from Justin's face. Suddenly, he was all business.

"All right, here we go," he murmured, craning his neck forward to peer through the window, sizing up the situation. He started to reach up to brush some frost off the glass, then blinked down at his hand and looked over his shoulder. "Um, Alex? Not that I mind, but I think were gonna need both hands for this, huh?"

"Oh, duh," Alex said. She dropped his hand as though it were a searing hot ember, and hoped he'd attribute the color in her cheeks to the exertion of chasing George Bailey halfway across town, through the snow, in crappy boots that hadn't exactly been made for it, after having spent the last six months faking cramps to get out of P.E.

"Looks like it is just the two of them in there, after all," Justin said quietly, as he turned back to the window. "At least I don't see anybody else. It's now or never. You ready?"

"What, are you kidding me?" Alex said sharply. "I've been ready for, like, twenty minutes!"

"All right, then," Justin nodded. He slipped his hand into his overcoat, and withdrew his wand from his inside breast pocket. "Wands out, Alex."

"Gee, Professor Dumbledore, are you afraid there may be Death Eaters afoot? Dude, it's an old man in a wheelchair and his equally ancient hired goon. I'm pretty sure we can take them."

Justin glared at her. "Mister Potter is the epitome of evil, Alex. I wouldn't put _anything_ past him. There's no harm in being prepared."

"Ugh, fine!" Alex groaned, retrieving her own wand from her pocket. "There, wand out. Happy? Now can we please just do this and go the hell home, already?"

"Right. It's go time. I have a plan, so just follow my lead." Justin raised his wand, and took a deep breath. "OK, on the count of three. One—"

"Three!" Alex snarled impatiently as she twirled her own wand in a tight circle. A bright flash enveloped them both, transporting them three feet to the north, from the outside of the bank to the inside of Potter's office.

* * *

"What the—?" Old Man Potter cried out, sitting bolt upright in his wheelchair behind his desk as Justin and Alex materialized before him in a flash. "Who—?"

"Mister Potter? Good evening," Justin said smoothly, already stepping towards him before the effects of the teleportation spell had completely worn off. "As a duly designated representative of the city, county and state of New York, I hereby place you under citizen's arrest for the alleged theft of eight thousand dollars this afternoon, on these very premises, from one Mister William Bai—"

Justin stopped short as Potter's aide, standing directly behind the old man's wheelchair, suddenly reached into his jacket and pulled out a snub-nosed .45, faster than a man of his advanced years ought to be able. His jaw dropped audibly as the bodyguard leveled the gun at his chest, and flinched as a loud pop reverberated through the room.

With a shuddering, horrified gasp, Justin looked down at himself, all the color draining from his face...then blinked in confusion as he realized he _hadn't_ been shot. He glanced back up in time to watch the man drop his gun and slump unconscious to the floor, the neon green glow of a particularly nasty curse gradually fading from where it struck him full in the chest.

Justin turned, open-mouthed, to face Alex, who still had her wand extended, and her steely brown eyes trained on the spot where the bodyguard used to be, before she made him fall down and go boom. Without blinking, she swiveled her eyes down to Potter, then lowered her arm to point the tip of her wand at his heart.

"Every now and again, I actually manage to get a spell right on the _first_ try, too," she said sardonically, without looking at Justin. "Yo, old dude. Hands where I can see em."

Casting a quick glance at his immobile bodyguard on the floor, Potter blanched and slowly raised his hands above his head.

"Who are you?" he demanded in a gruff voice, his beady eyes magnified through his spectacles, and fixed on Alex. "What manner of witchcraft is this?"

"Uh, wizardry, actually, Justin stammered. "It's a subtle distinction, I appreciate, and not one that would necessarily mean much to a mortal, particularly in this time period, but—"

"Yeah, nobody cares but you, egghead," Alex snapped. "Get on with it."

"Right, right, sorry," Justin said, belatedly bringing up his own wand to point it at the old man. "My name is Justin Russo, Mister Potter. And I've come back here from the future to bring you to justice for stealing that money from Billy Bailey and the Building & Loan. Don't believe me? Check out my digital watch!"

"Oh, God," Alex groaned, hanging her head as Justin waved his wrist in Potter's face. "Dude, seriously? _This_ is your plan?"

"Young man, I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about," Potter said, as he swatted Justin's hand away from his face. "But if you don't leave immediately, I'll be forced to call the authorities."

"You twitch a finger even a quarter of an inch towards that phone, dude, and it'll be the last thing you ever do," Alex said coldly.

Potter's eyes flicked from Justin to Alex, the left side of his mouth turning up in a smug smirk. "There's a security guard who patrols these offices on a regular basis, Miss. There's every chance that he's called the authorities already. You and your gentleman escort, here, would be wise to make your exit now, before they get here."

"Oh, that guy? Yeah, we took him out on the way in, way before we even came for you," Alex said, grinning evilly. "Duh! What do you think we are, amateurs? You're on your own, dude."

Potter's smirk faded somewhat. "What is it you want? Money? You intend to blackmail me, is that it?"

"All we want is justice," Justin spoke up, having felt more than a little out of his depth in the conversation thus far, "for everything you've done to the Bailey family, and Bedford Falls in general."

"What _I've_ done?" Potter blinked. "Young man, everything I've ever done has been in the best interest of Bedford Falls, whether the mindless rabble of its working class believe it or not. I've spent my entire life hewing order out of chaos, here. If bleeding heart liberals like the Bailey family had their way, the inmates would be running the asylum, and then where would we all be? Ruin, that's where. I'll retire to bedlam before I see that happen."

"Yeah, keep on gradually lowering your hands like that, old man," Alex grinned, gesturing at them with the tip of her wand. "Please, give me an excuse to zap your wrinkled ass. You think I don't know about the silent alarm button you've got rigged into the bottom of your desk? Think again."

Scowling at her, Potter raised his hands back up to where they'd been when he'd first put them up. Justin glanced from him, to his sister, and back again. It was actually frightening him a little how good she was proving to be at this.

"None of what you've said justifies you stealing that money from the Building & Loan, Mister Potter," he said, struggling to regain control of the situation, if he'd ever had it to begin with. "You've committed a crime, pure and simple, for your own malicious ends, and I intend to see that you pay for it, once and for all."

"That's a very serious accusation, young man," Potter said calmly. "I assume you have some form of proof?"

"It's a matter of public record in our time that, on the morning of December 24th, 1945, Billy Bailey handed you a newspaper, in which he'd inadvertently wrapped an envelope containing a bank deposit of eight thousand dollars," Justin said. "Which you then kept, in a petty attempt to falsely create an embezzlement scandal that would spell the end of the Bailey Building & Loan."

Potter jerked back in surprise at this, his bushy white eyebrows rising above his glasses, his guilt written plainly across his face.

"Which, P.S., doesn't work, by the way," Alex added cheerfully. "That mindless rabble of a working class you were yammering on about, just now? They're running around town raising the money to bail him out, even as we speak. And by now, the sheriff's already torn up the, um...whatchamacallit...for George Bailey's arrest."

"Warrant," Justin hissed under his breath.

"Yeah, that thing," Alex nodded firmly, then jerked her head towards her brother. "What he said."

Justin rolled his eyes and let out a small sigh of exasperation. "The point is, Mister Potter, that you've failed. Miserably. You haven't managed to kill the Bailey Building & Loan. And the only one who's going to jail tonight is you."

Behind his desk, Potter slumped back in his wheelchair, the corners of his mouth turning down into a bitter scowl of disappointment and frustration. He snorted loudly.

"I'll be doing no such thing," he growled. "The public record of...where or whenever you two claim to have come from...isn't going to carry a lick of weight with the county judge. Nor will the word of a pair of juvenile delinquents who've trespassed on my office, assaulted two of my employees, and held me hostage against my will! And even if—"

"Waitasecond, hang on," Alex grimaced, as her eyes flicked to the unconscious bodyguard slumped on the floor. "Two...?"

"The security guard you said we took out?" Justin reminded her.

"Oh yeah, right. Forgot about him," Alex said. She gestured at Potter with the tip of her wand. "Sorry to interrupt. Please continue with your little evil person's rant."

Potter blinked at her in confusion, then shook his head ever so slightly and focused his gaze back on Justin.

"Even if everything did happen the way you described—and I'm not saying it has—then Billy Bailey gave me that newspaper of his own accord," he said. "If I happened to dispose of that newspaper without noticing it contained this alleged envelope full of cash, that's hardly any fault of mine, is it?"

"You're lying," Justin said angrily, his face flushed. "We know you kept that money, Mister Potter."

"Then prove it," Potter said, leaning forward to sneer at him. "Otherwise, get out of my office."

Glaring back, Justin silently opened and closed his mouth several times , struggling to come up with a retort, then looked helplessly to his sister. She frowned at him, sadly, then sighed and lowered her wand to her side.

"You're right, Potter," she said flatly to the old man. "You're not going to jail. But, dude, you are _so_ gonna wind up dying alone."

Potter stiffened in his wheelchair. "So you intend to murder me in cold blood, then?"

"What? No!" Justin exclaimed, horrified, as he dropped his own wand as well. Then, with a hesitant look at Alex, he added: "Uh, we don't, right?"

"Of course not, don't be stupid," Alex snarled at her brother. "I meant eventually. But I guarantee you when it happens that the only one who's gonna mourn him is that dude lying down there. Everyone else is probably gonna join hands in the streets to sing 'Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead'."

"Probably? Don't you know?" Potter drawled, his voice dripping with skepticism as he lowered his hands to his desk. "Aren't you from the future? Isn't it a matter of public record where you come from?"

"Nuh-uh," Alex replied honestly, pocketing her wand. "I guess the people who made those records figured that how you ended up really wasn't important. That you didn't manage to rob George Bailey of his happy ending is all that really mattered."

Potter scowled deeply, then nodded at Justin. "It's certainly important to this boy, here."

"Yeah, but this boy here is a bit of a dork when it comes to stuff like this," Alex said, smiling fondly at her brother. "Trust me, anybody normal? Never even gives you a second thought after the credits roll. All we care about is that George and Mary lived happily ever after."

"So you're telling me that in this glorious future you supposedly come from, _George Bailey_ is a household name, and I'm reduced to being a mere footnote in _his_ story?" Chuckling, Potter leaned back in his chair and waved one hand dismissively. "Hogwash."

"It's true, Mister Potter," Justin said, his voice somber, as he stared at the old man intensely. "Every last word."

Potter's laughter trailed off as he looked up at Justin, his eyebrows knitting together above his glasses, a glimmer of doubt creeping into his eyes. Doubt, and fear. And just the sight of that little glimmer made Justin smile.

"Well, I don't know that it's fair to call you a footnote, exactly," Alex said thoughtfully. "I mean, you are kind of a household name too, even if nobody has any clue what your first one actually is."

"Henry," Potter and Justin said in the same breath, without taking their gaze off one another. Alex rolled her eyes skyward.

"See what I mean? Dork." Shaking her head, Alex took a step closer to Justin and wrapped her arm around his. "C'mon, egghead, let's go. I think we're done here."

"I think you're right," Justin nodded. Raising his wand, Justin took one last look at Old Man Potter, scowling at them uneasily from behind his desk. With his free hand, Justin reached up and tipped the brim of his fedora to him. "Mister Potter."

"Hogwash," Potter growled, gripping the arms of his wheelchair so tightly that his hands went white at the knuckles.

"Oh, one more thing," Alex said quickly, before Justin could twirl his wand. She jerked her chin towards the slumbering bodyguard on the floor. "I really hope you pay that guy well, dude. Because even if we couldn't book you for this, I'm sure there's at least a few skeletons in your closet that he knows about. And all it would take for buddy there to roll over on you would be for someone to come along with a better offer than you've given him. You might want to think about that."

"Hogwash!" Potter shouted again, his complexion darkening several shades.

"Merry Christmas!" Alex grinned, giving him a small wave goodbye. Then, dark eyes dancing, she nodded at Justin, and together they flashed out of the room, leaving Potter alone, with only an unconscious bodyguard and his own thoughts for company.

* * *

"OK, _that_ was fun!" Alex giggled when they rematerialized a split-second later. "I just wish I'd thought of bribing the old mans hired goon earlier. We'll have to try that next—hey, we're outside again. And still in black and white. Justin, why are we still in the movie? I thought we were going home!"

"In a minute," Justin said quietly, standing next to her in the falling snow and staring across the street. "There's just one last thing I wanted to see."

Alex blinked at him, then turned her head to follow his gaze towards an ancient, ramshackle old house, filled to bursting with people, with lights burning in every window. Even from all the way out here, they could clearly make out a rousing chorus of _Auld Lang Syne_, as accompanied by an inexpert piano player. Every few moments, one or two souls would come running up the street through the drifting snow and up the front steps, jostling their way through the crowd at the front door to join the party.

The mailbox out front, by the white picket fence that surrounded the yard, read _Bailey._

"Oh, wow," Alex breathed, the words coming out as a puff of white steam. She glanced back up at Justin, and smiled gently at the glassiness of his eyes. "Do you want to go in? I don't think they'd mind."

"Nah," he sniffled, then blinked and wiped the back of his hand beneath his nose. "Too many people. Eventually someone will realize they don't recognize us, and start asking questions. I'm good out here."

"OK," Alex nodded. Then, after only a moment's hesitation, she looped both of her arms through the crook of his elbow, leaned her head on his shoulder, and began to hum along with the chorus. Justin didn't complain.

"I'm really sorry the whole 'bring the bad guy to justice' thing didn't work out the way you wanted," she said softly.

"Eh, it was never going to, anyway," Justin sighed. "Even if I _had_ managed to get him arrested, he probably would have found some way to weasel his way out of it before too long. What you said to him, though? I think that's going to stick in his craw for the rest of his life. You were _awesome_ tonight."

"Thank you," Alex grinned, squeezing his arm. "It's nice to know that I can manage to out-evil-genius even the best of them."

"You're not evil, Alex," Justin said, with a shake of his head. "A genius? Maybe. And I think you like the idea of people _believing_ you're evil, if only so they'll think twice about messing with you. But really? I think you're just Chaotic Good."

"I have no idea what that even means, egghead," said Alex, "but it seems to make you awful happy to think it. So I'll accept it as a compliment."

"You should." Justin looked down at her with a smile, his grey eyes twinkling in the light of the streetlamps. "So this whole 'insert yourself into a DVD' spell turned out to be pretty awesome. I don't remember seeing it before, though. Which book did you say you found it in?"

"I didn't," Alex said. "It's mine. I made it up."

"Wait, what?" Justin cocked an eyebrow at her. "But it wasn't a make em up. You gave me the incantation. I remember, it was in Latin, and everything."

"Well, yeah," said Alex sheepishly. "I've been working on it for about a year now, off and on, and finally finished it last week. It's based on _Literarium Terrarium_, obviously—remember, that spell I used to use to zap myself into my journal?—but it took me _forever_ to figure out how to get it to work with digital media instead of the dead tree kind. And don't even get me started about making it compatible with both PAL and NTSC, because that was a whole other headache..."

"Wait wait wait," Justin broke in, staring at her as though she were speaking a foreign language. "Are you telling me that you actually researched an original spell? _You?"_

Alex nodded. "This was my last test run. I had to make sure it wouldn't overload with more than one person using it."

"Ohmigosh, Alex!" Justin shouted, his voice echoing in the night. "This is amazing! I'm so proud of you! My God, Dad is gonna flip when he finds out you actually submitted a spell for Wizard Certification!"

"Wizard Certification?" Alex snorted. "Pfft, as if. I'm not submitting it for Wizard Certification. If those jerks on the Wizards' Council want to know how to do it, they can figure it out their own damn selves."

"Woah, huh?" Justin blinked, then grabbed Alex by the shoulders and held her out at arm's length. "But this is an amazing spell, Alex! Every wizard in the world is gonna want to use this! Why would you go to all that trouble if you're not going to get it certified?"

Alex shrugged. "Because I made it for _you_, egghead. I don't _want_ every other wizard in the world using it. Just you."

"But—!"

"No buts, dorkus," Alex insisted, jutting her chin out at him in defiance, and crossing her arms across her chest. "It's yours, and yours alone. Merry Christmas."

And with that, she grabbed his peacoat by the lapels, closed her eyes, and lifted herself up on the tiptoes of her boots to kiss him gently on the cheek. And if she misjudged a little, and wound up getting him more or less on the corner of his mouth instead...well, that was just an accident. Totally.

"Wow," he said after a moment, taken aback, flushing darkly as she lowered herself back down onto her heels. "And here all I got you was a gift card for Suburban Outfitters."

"Ooo, really?" Alex clapped her hands together, the sound muffled by her mitts, her face lighting up like Rockefeller Center on...well, tonight. "Awesome! They always have a Crazy Ten-Minute Sale the day after Christmas! We'll have to go line up right after dinner, and camp out overnight, but I think we can manage to be the first ones through the door if we really scarf down dessert!"

Justin's face fell. "Wait, _we?"_

"Hold on, shhh!" Alex said suddenly with a frown, as she craned her head to one side, listening for something that Justin couldn't quite make out. "Do you hear that? It sounds like—oh, it is! Look, Justin, it's him! That guy we saw before!"

Justin turned to where Alex was pointing, and indeed, there was the Salvation Army Santa they'd seen on Main Street, hurrying up the sidewalk on the other side of the street, towards the Bailey home, still cheerfully ringing his bell and hauling his kettle behind him. The kettle, Justin noted, was a great deal fuller than it had been the last time they'd seen him, practically overflowing with cash.

"Hey!" Alex called to him, waving her arms frantically. "Hey, Santa! C'mere a second! Over here!"

"Alex?" Justin frowned at her, confused. "What are you—?"

"Do you have any money on you?" Alex asked hurriedly, whirling on him. "Even a buck or two? I was in my pajamas when we got here, so I don't have anything."

"So was I," Justin pointed out.

"Yeah, but you paid the pizza delivery guy when he showed up, so you should still have the change!"

"Oh, right...um...let's see..." Justin patted down the pockets of his peacoat, finding nothing, then slipped his hand into his left trouser pocket and produced a single bill. "Here we go. There's five."

"Thanks!" Alex grinned, snatching it from him. "Be right back!"

Justin watched after her, bewildered, as Alex gathered the hem of her coat up around her knees and ran across the road to intercept the Santa Claus as he drew up to the Baileys' mailbox, waving Justin's five dollar bill at him frantically. He stared at her blankly as she approached, then broke out into a wide grin, nodded, and held the kettle out towards her. Her back to Justin, the cold winter wind swallowing anything she might be saying to the other man, Alex leaned forward and made a show of depositing the money into the kettle. Santa nodded his thanks, gave her a small wave goodbye, then spun around and sprinted up the Baileys' front walk, ringing his bell all the way until he disappeared into the crowd just inside the front door.

"Wow, that was...incredibly sweet of you, Alex," Justin said in amazement as she returned to him with her hands in her pockets, beaming proudly. "You're full of all kinds of surprises, tonight. I feel like I've witnessed a Christmas miracle, or something...like when the Grinch's heart grew three sizes, and broke the frame."

"You don't know the half of it, egghead," she smirked in response. "Here, catch."

Alex withdrew her hands from her pockets and tossed something towards him, the light from the streetlamps glinting off it as it described a high arc through the falling snow. Justin lurched forward to catch it, fumbled it twice and nearly fell over as he skidded on a patch of ice, then clumsily clapped his gloves around it and clutched it to his chest. Sighing in relief, he glared briefly at Alex before looking down at his chest to see what it was.

"See?" Alex said smugly as he gaped down at the silver flask in his hands. "Told you he was packing."

Justin looked up at her, incredulous. "You _stole_ this from him?"

"Oh stole, shmole. Serves him right, he shouldn't have had it anyways. You said so yourself."

"You stole from _Santa Claus?_" Justin gaped at her, his voice rising higher with every syllable. "On _Christmas Eve? _In _Bedford Falls?"_

"And I guarantee you he never suspected a thing," Alex boasted, snatching the flask from him. She unscrewed the cap and sniffed at its contents. "No magic, either. Pure sleight of hand. Seriously, how good am I?"

"No good at all!" Justin said, in his breathy, scandalized voice, as he grabbed the flask back from her. "I take it back! You're Chaotic Neutral, at best!"

"Oh please. Like you're not just as curious as I am to see whether or not we can actually bring stuff back with us," Alex scoffed. "Or isn't that the kind of thing you'd like to know _before_ you use this on _Star Wars_, and have the chance to build your own real, working lightsaber?"

Justin held her gaze for a moment, hesitating, then slowly screwed the cap back onto the flask and handed it back to her.

"Fine," he said flatly. "But you're still incorrigible."

"Oh whatever, egghead, you know you love it. Now can we go home, already? It's getting late, and Harper's present isn't going to wrap itself." Alex blinked, then narrowed her eyes deviously as a sudden thought hit her. "Hmm, unless..."

"I'm going to have to wrap it for you, if I want to keep you from trying to do it with magic and messing it up, aren't I?" Justin asked.

Alex grinned at him, and held up the flask. "I'll nuke the pizza and spike the eggnog?"

"Deal," Justin sighed heavily, retrieving his wand from his pocket. "But after that, we're totally putting on _Rudolph_. I've been dying to give all of those other reindeer a piece of my mind since I was four years old..."

"Ooo!" Alex beamed, tucking her hand into his. "I'll bet I'd look really cute in one of those little stop-motion elf-girl outfits!"

"Heh, I bet you would," Justin agreed, unable to keep the smile off his face at the thought of it, as he held his wand up above his head. Then, twirling it in a tight circle, he invoked the spell that Alex had made for him, the very best Christmas gift he had ever received, and would ever receive.

_"Literarium Terrarium Activa!"_

And suddenly, with a bright flash of light and a light tinkling noise, they disappeared as if into thin air, and were gone.

—30—

(**DISCLAIMER, THE SECOND:** Oh yeah, and obviously _It's A Wonderful Life_ and its characters don't belong to me, either. Santa, you're really letting me down this year, that's all I'm gonna say.)


End file.
